It is in the smell of her nail polish. She brandishes the brush like a weapon and spills ‘blood’ on my white t-shirt.
It is in the scent of her body splash- she has so many different kinds. Somehow she manages to make them all smell the same.
It is in the way she walks; one step closely followed by the other, always in a hurry, as if to slow down would mean an unforgivable sin.
It is in the swing of her hips, in her smile, in her stubborn jaw line, in the soft rolls that is her belly, the perfect mounds that are her breasts.
I took her picture while she was sleeping; and then I paced around the room, waiting impatiently for her to awaken so I could take some more. She is perfect in sleep but she is even more perfect with her eyes wide open.
I have tried to tell the world what it is that I love about her. But a wise man once said ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’. So I pace around the room some more, waiting for that perfect moment when there will be no reason to speak, no reason at all.
Song of the day: Michelle Branch- Tuesday Morning